


Comfort

by Sornir



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Christmas, Christmas Cookies, Christmas Fluff, Fireplaces, Fluff and Smut, Love Bites, M/M, Neck Kissing, Orgasm, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:27:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21949579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sornir/pseuds/Sornir
Summary: Two sailors home for the holidays. One's a sarcastic, anxious nerd. The other's a jock who can't keep his mouth under control.They manage to find a little holiday cheer in an unexpected way.OC x OC.
Relationships: Original Male Character & Original Male Character
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	Comfort

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Marmotap](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Marmotap).



> A Christmas gift for someone I consider a dear friend. Happy Holidays to all. :)

_“Christmas Eve will find you...Where the love light gleams...I'll be home for Christmas...If only in my dreams…”_

Reece can’t help but smile to himself. Standing in front of the fireplace fills him with an odd mixture of comfort and unease that he can’t quite describe. After so many months aboard the naval vessel that he’d come to call home, it’s strange to go from the constant feeling of motion beneath his feet to the plush sensation of carpet between his toes; from the incessant clamor of immature sailors to the gentle union of fire and music; from the pervasive odor of sea salt to the pleasing scent of baking treats. 

The house is small, but that’s an advantage. The dancing flames warm the living room without assistance, casting shadows across the plush sofa and armchair. Framed photographs shine with flickering light. The inhabitants almost look like they’re in motion. A sparse and unimpressive Christmas tree sits in the corner, between the fireplace and the window. It’s undecorated, and beneath it sit only two presents: one wrapped in reflective gold paper and tied off with a bow, the other unwrapped and slightly beaten up.

Moonlight and starlight seep between the curtains, cool silver and blue dueling the warm red and orange hues cast by the fire. The night air knocks against the windows in the form of fog, but not a trace of cold can enter.

It’s so idyllic that Reece finds it unnerving. 

“Can you turn that shitty music off? Jesus Christ.”

The sharp voice of the man behind him scythes through the air, pulling Reece from his reverie. The voice is strong, carrying with it a practiced power befitting someone who’s used to being in charge. Someone who’s used to getting what he wants, when he wants it.

Dare lays sprawled out on the sofa like he owns it - which he does, though you wouldn’t be able to guess based on the condition of it. Unlike most things Dare owns and frequently uses, the furniture is in nearly pristine shape. Everything the house is. With all of his time spent aboard the ship, he hasn’t had the time to destroy his home like he destroys everything else.

The sharp lines and wicked angles of the man’s face clash with the gentle curves of the fire’s shadows. He shifts his body, letting one heel rest against the leg of the sofa while the other hangs off, his foot brushing against the floor. He wears sweatpants and no shirt, proudly showing off years of accumulated muscle, hardened by labor and sun and the abrasive ocean air that scours everything it touches. 

Dare shifts, one hand moving to rest behind his head while the other rests on his bare chest. Beneath the intense glare of his crimson-colored eyes, Reece almost wavers. He’s looked into those eyes countless times and seen countless emotions within, but he’s never been able to get used to the raw power of Dare’s stare.

When Reece turns, a devious smile crosses his face. It’s a challenge, offered before he even speaks. 

Dare scowls in response, and his body visibly tenses. The warm and cozy mood shatters like glass. “The fuck are you looking at me like that for? I said—”

“I know what you said,” Reece sighs, pretending not to notice Dare gritting his teeth. Dare hates being cut off. Reece doesn’t even try to verbally follow up on his interruption. 

The larger man sits up, his muscles flexed, his eyes sparking in a way that rivals the crackling flames. He leans forward, honing his voice with a low, deadly edge. “Listen here, you little bastard. You’re in my house. I let you get away with plenty of shit on the ship, but when you’re in my goddamn house, you’re gonna show me some respect.” The words are fired like buckshot. Even Reece, who’s heard it all before, can’t help but wince.

There’s a moment of near-silence. Reece doesn’t speak. Dare slowly exhales through his nose and teeth like an angry bull. The tension is thick enough to smother any previous hint of holiday cheer, and Reece feels the smile slide off his face. Dare must notice, because the anger and indignation in his expression gives way to something like...regret. Almost, but not quite.

The moment ends abruptly with the ding of a kitchen timer, and they both flinch in unison. Reece doesn’t look at him, raising his eyes to look in the general direction of the kitchen instead. “The cookies are ready.”

He steps forward. Dare rises to meet him, reaches out to grasp at his wrist, but Reece moves a little too quickly. His feet pass across the outer edge of the carpet before it turns into the white tile and grout of the kitchen. The floor is cold, a sudden departure from the warmth of the fireplace, but Reece doesn’t let his mind linger on that. 

The kitchen, like the living room, is small. Only the barest essentials decorate the counters - a few bowls, a single pot, a few assorted pieces of silverware. When Reece hits a switch and turns on the fluorescent light, it burns away the natural glow of the fire. Reece’s thoughts wander away from Christmas and onto other matters, the same way his mind always wanders when he’s stressed or upset.

“...Hey..” 

Reece hears Dare’s voice instead of seeing him, but offers no acknowledgement, focusing on the oven. It’s been fifteen minutes since they were put in. Surely they’re done by now. Did he remember to add enough salt and sugar? Did he soften the butter? The recipe had called for 15 minutes at 350 - should he have tried a lower temperature?

“Hey…”

He dons an oven mitt and takes the cookies out, laying them on the stovetop. He doesn’t look at them. His mind is racing. What are they going to do once Christmas is over? Will they even stay at the house through New Years? Or will it be right back to the ship? The ship and the sailors, and the semi-sadistic, commanding Officer Dare who refuses to— 

“Hey.”

Dare’s voice is startlingly close, right in Reece’s ear, and his mind snaps back to reality with a start. When had Dare walked up behind him?

“Relax, will you?” Dare frowns, resting his chin on Reece’s shoulder as his arms wrap around the smaller boy, hugging him tightly, protectively. The closeness makes the room feel warm again. Reece can feel Dare’s gentle breath against his neck, he can feel Dare’s rising chest against his back. It’s an intimate embrace, and a rare one. Reece closes his eyes for a moment and lets himself fall back into the hug.

“I’m sorry,” Dare begins, breaking the silence once again. His words aren’t harsh like they’d been in the living room. They’re careful and patient and practiced, like he’d taken years to think about exactly what he wanted to say. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lost my temper. You know I can be stupid sometimes. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Reece keeps his eyes closed, saying nothing. He remains silent for a moment, not out of anger or spite, but because he can’t find anything to say...and because he doesn’t want to change the moment. Having Dare wrapped around him like a muscular blanket is a seldom pleasure that he has no desire to give up right away. 

He reaches up and takes a gentle hold of Dare’s forearm, offering a small smile. “It’s alright.” That’s all he can give.

Another breath hits Reece’s skin, and he shivers - despite the warmth from the oven and the distant heat of the fire, he’d grown cold without realizing it.

The breath’s heat turns solid as Dare’s lips meet Reece’s neck in a kiss, and it’s Reece’s turn to exhale. He fidgets against the larger man, but Dare gives him no room to escape. “D-Dare, I…”

“I know.” The reply is smug. Maybe Dare is proud of his ability to deduce his boyfriend’s feelings. Maybe he’s just proud to have known anything at all. He kisses Reece’s neck again, and Reece cracks; a soft gasp and a following groan escape his traitorous mouth.

It’s like bleeding in shark-infested waters.

Dare’s grasp grows tighter instantly, eliminating any chance of squirming that Reece might have had. Another kiss comes down in the same place as the first, but instead of feeling the softness of Dare’s lips, Reece feels the blunt sting of _teeth_ and the wetness of his tongue, and he’s helpless to stop the sinful cry that Dare masterfully pulls out of him. His other hand comes up to grasp at his boyfriend’s arm, but there’s not even any room to dig his fingertips into.

The cookie sheet radiates dangerous amounts of heat, and Reece bites his lip as he plants his hands on the edge of the oven, holding on as though his life depends on it. Though he can’t wiggle, he arches his back, pressing his hips backward into Dare’s body. Dare responds by pushing back, initiating a tug of war game that no one really minds losing.

Dare reaches down with one hand, sliding his fingertips into Reece’s soft pajama bottoms. The shock of the contact on his bare hip jolts Reece back to his senses. “Wait.”

Dare groans like a child who has to wait for dessert. He reluctantly releases his boyfriend and steps back, his hands falling down by his sides. “What?! Wait for what?!” 

“It’s Christmas Eve,” Reece replies. He tries to conjure strength into his voice, but it comes out as a pant. He turns slowly, bracing himself against the oven, trying to pretend that his knees aren’t weak and that there isn’t a brand new bruise on his neck, left behind by Dare’s feral mouth. “I already told you. No sex until after we exchange gifts.

“You can’t be fucking serious.” Dare’s powerful voice sharpens to a petulant whine. “I thought you were joking about that. I really can’t fuck you until we...goddamn it.”

Reece rolls his eyes and reaches up, rubbing his neck under the pretense of thinking, trying to conceal the way his fingertips search for the hickey. “Well...let’s do it now, then. Whatever keeps you from sulking. You get so dramatic if you don’t get what you want.”

Dare looks like he wants to say something, but he bites it back. He knows the truth of Reece’s statement. “Whatever.”

He turns, and Reece follows, admiring the hardened curves of Dare’s back. It’s astonishing how someone so physically powerful, someone who commands attention so easily, can have moments like this. Intimate embraces and conversations that are such a far cry from the rigid power structure aboard the ship, where Dare is an officer, and Reece is just a private. Here, they’re just Dare and Reece. Nothing more, nothing less.

Dare takes a seat at the base of the tree, stretching his legs out and spreading them with no sense of shame. “Let’s do this. I still think it’s stupid when we only have two presents…”

“Well, I didn’t ask you,” Reece replies with a teasing smile, enjoying the way the fire’s shadow washes across Dare’s scowl. “I’m only kidding. Here, you can open mine first.” 

Dare doesn’t need any further prompting, and snatches up the golden box with a frown. Whereas most people would untie the bow and carefully unwrap the paper, Dare simply shreds it like an animal, discarding the wrapping to the side. “The fuck…? It’s a cardboard box.”

Reece stares at him for a moment, feeling disbelief spread across his features. “You...the gift is inside the box, Dare. Do I really need to explain this part to you? Good Lord.”

“Shut up,” Dare shoots back. “I know that. I was just...testing you. Shut up.”

Reece barely holds back a laugh, watching with amusement as Dare hooks his fingers inside and around the cardboard, nearly ripping the box apart as well. Dare’s eyes widen slightly in surprise as he slowly pulls out a black leather case with a zipper running along the outside. “The fuck is…?” He gives it an experimental shake, and the case rattles with the sound of quite a few moving instruments inside.

“I wanted to get you something meaningful,” Reece says softly, slowly lowering himself to his knees and tilting his head, watching the case as Dare unzips it. “Something you would actually like, and use. Something to show how much I care about you.”

The case opens, and Dare inhales - though whether it’s from surprise, joy, or rage is anyone’s guess. 

Laid out and neatly arranged within the case are twenty crochet hooks and needles, half made from metal, half made from bamboo, all different sizes for creating different things. “Before you freak out,” Reece begins hastily, still watching the case. He’s avoiding Dare’s eyes, afraid of what he’ll see in them. Terrified of what he’ll see in them. “I did some snooping in your cabin before we left the ship. I knew you’d be mad, so I had to do it fast. I looked in your dresser and I found some things that you knitted, and…”

He trails off. Dare hasn’t moved or spoken. He’s still holding the case, staring at it in disbelief. His brows aren’t furrowed in anger, they’re furrowed in confusion, and his eyes are calm. “You...got...huh.”

Reece winces, almost overwhelmed by unease. This doesn’t seem right. He expects Dare to yell, to throw things, to toss the needles into the fire. But Dare doesn’t do any of those things. He looks up at Reece, and...he’s smiling. Not grinning, but smiling. “You got me a crochet kit? You’re so fucking gay.”

“What?” Reece is too caught by surprise to even be indignant. He adjusts his glasses with a huff and looks away toward the frosty window, hoping the firelight hides the blush on his cheeks. “I was trying to do something nice for you, jerk! I just wanted to get you something special! HEY!”

His sentence ends in a surprised yelp as Dare pulls him into his lap, hugging him with enough force to pop his back. “You’re so gay and sweet,” Dare murmurs into his ear. Reece isn’t sure he’s ever heard Dare’s voice so soft. “This might be the nicest gift anybody’s ever gotten me, Reece. Thank you.”

Reece relaxes his muscles, unsure when he had tensed them. “Oh, um...sure. No problem, Dare.” His cheeks brighten in color when he feels Dare gently kiss the crown of his head, and Dare gives a mischievous snicker. “Your gift, uh...I think you’ll like it.”

Reece gives a hesitant nod and slips out of Dare’s arms, returning to his kneeling position by the tree. He frowns as he picks up the beaten box, examining it in the soft light. “What happened to this thing? Did you punch it a few times after you bought it?” It’s a smaller box than the other, and more cubical than rectangular. It’s simple enough to open. “DARE.”

Lying inside the box, with no other wrapping or ceremony, is a simple black collar. Reece drops the box out of sheer shock, and Dare roars with laughter. “Y-you can’t...that isn’t...Dare,” Reece groans, refusing to look at the box. Maybe if he doesn’t acknowledge it, it’s not there. “You can’t buy me... _that_...for Christmas!”

“But I did,” Dare points out, barely getting his laughter under control enough to speak. “And since it’s a gift, you have to put it on. That’s like, the rules or some shit. Isn’t it?”

Reece pauses, lowering his eyes with reluctance back toward the box. “I don’t believe this,” he murmurs to himself, pulling out the collar and slowly feeling it in his fingers. It’s the same material as a dog’s collar. Reece isn’t even sure it’s meant to go around a human neck. “I’m just going to put it on for a moment, alright? Just a moment. Then I’m taking it right off.”

He slowly pulls the collar up toward his neck and clips it with a resounding snap. Though it’s a soft noise, it seems to drown out everything else - the still-playing music, the crackling fire, Dare’s anticipatory breathing. The collar doesn’t choke him, but it hugs his neck firmly with just enough pressure to constantly remind Reece of its presence. 

The mood has changed completely, and they both realize it. Reece’s face feels hot, and he knows his expression has gone from bashful to submissive. 

Dare, at the same time, has stopped laughing. His eyes are intense. His mouth hangs open, and his chest moves to and fro with the effort of his breathing. He looks like a predator watching prey. “That...looks pretty damn good on you.”

Reece lets out a squeak that he wishes he could take back. Dare devours weakness like that. He’s seen it a hundred times. “I...th-thanks, Dare, I—”  
He doesn’t get to finish his thought. Dare moves like lightning and strikes just as hard, and before Reece even knows what’s happened, he’s bent over the arm of the sofa with a hand pinning his head down. His glasses are knocked askew, though Dare either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. “Ack! Dare!!”

“You said I had to wait until after we exchanged presents,” Dare murmurs. His other hand is working on Reece’s sweatpants and briefs, pulling them down with impatient haste. “We exchanged presents. I’m done waiting.”

The first spank stops Reece’s words in his throat, and he gives a strangled yelp of shock as he rises to his toes. It had hurt, but not too much; Dare knew, from experience, just how much pain he could take. “Relax,” the larger man snorts, groping and squeezing the spot where he’d struck Reece’s ass, eliciting a few more whines and whimpers. Though it’s hard to see in the firelight, the vague outline of a handprint is already beginning to form. “You know I’m not going to hurt you too bad, Reece.”

Reece’s name sounds like honey on Dare’s lips, sweet and drawn out to far more syllables than it needs to be. It’s a tease, like everything Dare does. He’s gotten good at turning Reece’s tactics against him. 

The second hit comes on the opposite cheek, and even though Reece braces himself for it, no amount of tensing can prepare him for the sting and subsequent squeezing. It’s all practiced, the way that Dare toys with him.

Every time Reece tries to speak, Dare comes down with another spank. He knows the cadence of Reece’s breathing, he can read him like a book. It’s a reaction born from many nights of sadistic experience. “You always talk so much,” Dare mutters. Reece can’t see him, but he knows that voice. He knows the cruel-but-amused look that must be in Dare’s eyes, the hungry glint as he pulls Reece’s cheeks apart to inspect his prize.

Reece gives a soft whimper, and Dare’s touch changes. He loosens his grip on the back of Reece’s head and pulls off slightly, as though ashamed of letting himself go that far. “Shit. Sorry, Reece, I—”

But it’s Reece turn to cut him off. Reece, the fearless and sarcastic nerd who’s been turned into a whining, squirming, collared submissive, hisses through his teeth and glares over his shoulder at the apprehensive Dare. “Don’t you stop now,” he manages to get out, though it sounds almost like a gasp. “Don’t you stop. Take me all the way. I need it. I _need_ it.”

Dare’s eyes twinkle with amusement, and he gives the faintest nod. “Hang on…”

The moments before the beginning are always the worst.

Reece’s trembling fingers clench into the cushions, desperate for any sort of grip as Dare prepares him with a bottle of lube that he’d “coincidentally” concealed in the pocket of his sweatpants. The cold-but-quickly-warming sensation is something Reece isn’t sure he’ll ever get used to, even if it’s combined with the familiar feeling of Dare’s fingertips sliding around his entrance.

Reece’s voice cracks as he starts to beg again, but Dare reads his mind. He lines himself up, but only once he leans forward and envelops the smaller boy’s torso with his arms does he push himself in. He holds Reece tightly, tight enough to prevent him from crying out, tight enough so that his bare skin presses against Reece’s rear and lower back, adding to the growing heat that spreads across both of their bodies.

The first thrust is sharp enough that Reece swears he sees stars. Dare isn’t patient enough to go slow and steady. He wants the pleasure _now_ , just like he wants everything _now_. Reece couldn’t say anything if he wanted to.

He feels his eyes roll upward and his mouth hang agape as drool starts falling from the corner of his mouth. Dare’s thrusts only grow more aggressive, ramping up in speed and power, and Reece’s entire body begins to rock with the sheer force exerted by Dare’s powerful hips. Like everything else, he thrusts with just the perfect amount of strength, at the perfect angle, giving Reece as much as he can take without going overboard.

Seconds and minutes blend together seamlessly. There’s no point in trying to keep track of time when thoughts can barely be strung together. Dare is speaking, but Reece can’t make heads or tails of what’s being said; all he can focus on is the blossoming heat on his skin, the wet and painful marks left on his neck and shoulders by Dare’s savage kisses.

Dare’s assault is animalistic in its utter disregard for Reece’s comfort. His nails rake down Reece’s hips, his palms slap down on Reece’s rear, his cock nails that sweet spot inside Reece’s body and sends him spiralling through places of pleasure he’s not sure he’ll ever experience again.

They cum in disjointed unison, one after the other, with Dare filling Reece to the brim and Reece tumbling over the edge immediately after. His fingers dig into the couch cushions hard enough to turn white, and a wail escapes his lips in total defiance of Dare’s unrelenting grasp.

There’s a brief few seconds of afterglow, in which they both pant softly, break apart, and recollect their bearings.

Then Dare promptly falls on top of his boyfriend.

“Hey,” Reece squeaks, wincing as he finds himself covered by a massive, dopily-grinning blanket of muscle. “You’re crushing me, Dare!”

“So?” Dare’s words are slurred and heavy. He sounds sedated, which is a bad sign for Reece. Though the sex is over, the heat remains, which isn’t a pleasant feeling alongside Dare’s crushing weight. “I’m tired. I’m gonna take a nap. Merry Christmas or whatever.”

Reece’s eyes widen, and he pulls a hand out from under himself to adjust his glasses. “Dare, we need to clean up, and the cookies are definitely by now! Dare? DARE!”

The larger man just snorts softly and smiles, pulling Reece into himself. “I love you, but you talk too much.”

The declaration of love silences Reece, and he allows himself to be cuddled despite his protests. The dancing fire distracts him, crackling in harmony with Dare’s steady breathing, and Reece feels himself let go of his thoughts. He reaches up to touch Dare’s arm, and closes his eyes as well.

In the moment, nothing matters. Nothing but them.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on Twitter! twitter.com/sornkrbk


End file.
